


Daffodils

by LessaimEternel



Series: Flower Fae AU [1]
Category: ATEEZ (Band), ONEUS (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fae, M/M, Mild angst but mostly fluff, cute fluff, every fae has their own birth flower, flower fae specifically, no beta we die like quarantined losers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:14:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25738651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LessaimEternel/pseuds/LessaimEternel
Summary: San is a daffodil. In a world where other fae perceive daffodils as weeds, can he find the place he truly belongs...?or;Choi San is part of Prince Wooyoung's party visiting the frozen northern kingdom of Hellebore, and finds his way to a secret garden in the middle of the night.
Relationships: Choi San/Kim Geonhak | Leedo, Kim Geonhak | Leedo & Kim Youngjo | Ravn, Kim Youngjo | Ravn/Choi San
Series: Flower Fae AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1867084
Comments: 3
Kudos: 27
Collections: Stupid Cupid FicFest 2020





	Daffodils

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure how I feel about this. It's part of a larger AU I have in the works, so I apologize if some things weren't very well fleshed out.
> 
> I hope you enjoy regardless!

Daffodils.

For as long as he can remember, San has both loved and hated the presence of his birth flower. He would never be quite as vibrant as Hongjoong, with his delicate frame and the warmth of dahlias weaving through his pale gold locks, nor anywhere near as beautiful as Wooyoung, their beloved prince. And he would never be as gentle and down to earth as Mingi, who seemed to ooze grace despite his size, drops of hydrangeas clinging to his skin and perfuming the air around him. In comparison to his friends, San was simply a daffodil. Unassuming. Invasive... not quite belonging in just one place.

As a child, he'd always had to face the animosities of those who believed his father had committed some sort of treason against their own kind. A child of the Sun, a creature of light and warmth and sunshine, should never lay with a child of the Moon. They were opposite sides of the same coin, as blatantly obvious as night and day - quite literally so. And yet, San knows the stories. That his mother was a beautiful Moon fae, with locks of silvery white and eyes as blue as a summer day. That she had braved the harsh reality of melting to follow his father to the South, to the lands of endless fields of color and life, far from the realm of never ending snow and ice.

And he knows the truths. She had loved his father dearly and that love had been strong enough to give new life. In the end, not even love could protect her from the harsh realities of being an outsider in a land that was unkind to strangers. She had died giving birth to a child who didn't belong in either kingdom.

That San had been born with daffodils in his hair and smudges of yellow staining the apples of his cheeks was almost a mockery to his mother's legacy. A flower that could survive the violent chill of winter and thrive in the sweltering hot of summer. A flower that, given motivation, could overtake all others. Most considered the daffodil a weed, a vicious parasite that latched on to even the most beautiful of gardens until there was nothing but vibrant swathes of golden yellow in their place.

Like an invasive weed, San had taken the last remnants of his mother's strength, and left in her place nothing more than a disappointment.

Of course, his father claimed to love him. Despite losing his beloved, for a time he showered San in all the love and comfort a child needs from their parents. But a child remembers the cruel whispers most of all, and years of quiet abuse from those around him had given San a rather twisted look on life. Acting out became his way of adjusting to the cruel nature of the world. Getting in trouble to get just a little bit of attention, no matter if it was positive or negative, became his calling card.

And by the time he was an adult in the eyes of the fae, his father had all but given up on his only son and heir. By rights, one day San would claim his father's lands as a Lord but to those who knew them, San was nothing more than an annoyance.

Wooyoung had been the one to pull San from his mayhem and mischief. The young prince had always possessed such a beautiful, vibrant soul and though they'd all but grown up together, San had refused to let him in, refused to let the crown prince be smudged by his dirt, lest the daffodils claim another garden bed.

But Wooyoung... Wooyoung's stubborn. Stubborn, loud, and always willing to see the best in people. In time, San had learned to open up to him and then... it was as if they'd always been friends. Wooyoung didn't care for the rumors and whispers. Nor did he claim San's daffodils were anything but beautiful because they are, 'they are so beautiful, San, I wish you could see that'. Wooyoung built San back up and every time he stumbled or tripped, Hongjoong and Mingi were there to catch him.

Perhaps that's why San's here now.

There hadn't really been any need for him to follow the Heliotrope prince all the way to Hellebore. He wasn't Wooyoung's guard, like Hongjoong and Mingi. Nor was he an advisor or intellectual. No, he followed his friends because Wooyoung had asked him to come. San can still remember the way Wooyoung's voice had trembled, the grip on his arm becoming tight enough to bruise, the watery sheen to his eyes as he'd pulled San aside and all but begged him to come to Hellebore with them.

'I can't do this without you, Sannie. I'm supposed to marry that guy. I've never even met him. I hate the cold, you know that. I just-- I need to give this a chance. I need to give him a chance, but I need you to come with me. My stable Mountain. You give me strength beyond all else. No matter who I marry, no matter who I might come to love, you will always be my soulmate, my best friend... my brother. Please, Sannie. Please come with us.'

And really, how could San refuse Wooyoung anything?

He can't... which is how he finds himself wandering the quiet, chilly halls of Hellebore castle after dinner with the king and his entourage.

It's been just over a month since their departure from Heliotrope, leaving fields of flowers and a constant warmth from the never-ending summer of the South for frozen valleys of sparkling snow and ice. They'd all heard the sad news of the death of the king, though very little was known about the Crown Prince. That he would willingly accept the hand of a Sun Fae as his consort and partner, forsaking the traditions of his lineage and what was generally expected of him was a surprise, but as far as San was aware, his betrothal to Wooyoung had been decided long before either child knew of the other's existence.

More surprising had been the reveal that Hongjoong had been in an established relationship with Yunho's friend and advisor, Seonghwa, for almost three years. Considering his constant presence in the flower beds, constantly trailing after Wooyoung and San and keeping the two idiots out of trouble, the fact he'd maintained a relationship for so long was nothing short of amazing.

But San couldn't deny that the way Seonghwa looked at Hongjoong over the dinner table, all warm and sweet and devoting, had his insides twisting with something foreign. The concept of relationships was something San had never really thought about. When everyone avoids you, it's pretty easy to avoid the topic itself. His first kiss hadn't even been all that special, just an awkward fumbling of lips and teeth and far too much tongue - not that Wooyoung had complained at the time. But relationships... something like what Hongjoong and Seonghwa have, like what Wooyoung would come to have with Yunho, if the way he was slowly opening up to the Moon fae was any indication, no. San has made peace with the fact he'll be alone once Wooyoung marries Yunho.

Alone.

The young fae's features twist into a frown as he slowly drifts from room to room, following the silence and solitude like a moth to a flame. Being alone doesn't scare him. Not really. He's been alone all his life. And it's not like he'll truly lose Wooyoung. They were soulmates. Best friends. And no marriage would ever come between the bond they'd forged.

San sighs softly, eyes closing for a few moments as he steps away from yet another empty room. This late at night, he had yet to be disturbed by the presence of another fae. Mingi had disappeared to who knows where with the young oracle bearing a pretty smile and a soft, lyrical voice. Seonghwa and Hongjoong had retired for the night, taking their moments of privacy when they could, content that Wooyoung would be safe in Yunho's care. Which left San on his own, to either sleep early, or - as if there was any other choice - explore the castle more.

His footsteps lead him mindlessly through empty hallways brightened by sparkling flurries of snowflakes drawn in by the cool breeze and twisting vines heavy with blooming hellebore. It's quite beautiful, both the architecture of the castle itself and the wild, untamed nature around every corner. Nothing like the delicate buildings of the South, the massive aquatic colonies of the East, or the carefully carved mountainous kingdom to the West. There's something hauntingly ethereal to Hellebore. Maybe it's his halfblood heritage calling to him. The Moon fae within him finding some sort of kinship with his mother's people.

He always did love the night. And the cold never really bothered him much.

San's eyes lift as he comes to a small alcove, a delicate staircase leading up into the darkness. Curiosity draws him forward, quietly whispering to him to climb the staircase until the darkness has engulfed him. The first step comes easily, as does the several that follow, but the higher he climbs, surrounded on all sides by an all encompassing darkness that sends icy chills down his spine, the more he wonders if perhaps he's wandered across something he shouldn't have.

His wings twitch, the gossamer limbs settling against his back as a gentle cascade of daffodils litter the steps beneath his feet and behind him. Their loss isn't noticed, not when their petals were ephemeral, blossoming and dying with little more than a whisper and a song. As such, he doesn't realize he's left a trail behind him, a very betraying trail of buttery golden warmth contrasted by the frigid cold of the silver steps. And then, as if it was never there to begin with, the darkness gives way to the sparkling of stars and the cool wash of moonlight.

San almost stumbles to a stop when he finally makes it to the top of the staircase, a kaleidoscope of colors and aromas almost immediately assaulting his senses. Whatever he might have been expecting when he got to the top of the mysterious set of stairs... an entire garden - a private garden, at that - was definitely not it. The first thing he notices is the surprising lack of hellebore blooms dotting the greenery before him, a little odd considering how prevalent the beautiful, hardy flower was everywhere else in the castle. Smiling faintly, the young fae carefully steps over the threshold and underneath an archway bearing delicate tendrils of clematis, the vibrant purple flower giving off a gentle, sweet aroma that wraps around him as he steps further into the tiny piece of paradise.

His smile grows at the sight of winter Jasmine, beaming spots of golden yellow amidst the deep green leaves and flurries of snowflakes dancing in the air. Patches of pale pink cyclamen dot the bushes, accompanied by tiny bundles of delicate Daphne. More of the clematis twists around the garden, creeping up stone pillars and along the rails. At his feet, nestled delicately along the edges of the stone pathway, tiny snowdrops sway gently in the breeze. Where the castle had been all elegant, hard edges and awe-inspiring architecture, this tiny, beautiful garden feels more like home than anything else.

"Who do you belong to?" His voice is a soft murmur as he slowly drifts through the garden, fingertips grazing the upturned petals of pansies, pale yellow pollen sticking to his skin as if thanking him for his company. "Up here all alone... you're so strong, surviving in this bitter cold."

Laughing softly, San wanders aimlessly. He moves from patch to patch, admiring the warmth of the heather and the delicate aroma of the cherry blossoms, before a surprising patch of familiar buttery yellow draws his attention. There, half hidden behind a cascade of fuzzy golden mahonia, rests a tiny patch of daffodils. Out of sight unless you were standing right there. Forgotten, perhaps...

"...you too, huh?"

Carefully stepping around the mahonia, San gingerly crouches before the almost shivering bloom of daffodils. The gentle itch along his collarbone and up the side of his neck lets him know that his own flowers are blooming in response, tiny, delicate petals unfurling against his skin before slowly falling down like the snowflakes still dancing around him. Daffodils were never a common occurrence back home. They were thought to be a winter bloom, and as a result, had never been planted in the vast fields and gardens of Heliotrope. Like San, they were an outsider, out of sight and oftentimes forgotten by everyone but himself.

Forgotten... but ever present.

"You're doing such a great job, little ones," San whispers, fingers outstretched to touch the quivering petals of the nearest daffodil. It almost turns towards him, soft and cool against his skin as his magic reaches out to the plant. "Soldiering on despite your isolation. Surrounded by so many beautiful things... yet shadowed by all of them."

San's expression softens, lips turning down at the edges as he wraps his arms around his knees and simply sits there, crouched in the snow and dirt, admiring the hardy strength of the flowers before him. He doesn't really know how long he stays there for. Can't feel the chill starting to seep into his bones or the way his wings twitch every so often as snow settles on their gossamer edges. He almost zones out, drifting in the space between awareness and slumber, until he hears the gentle crunch of boots on fresh snow, the subtle shift of armor against leather, and the quiet murmur of voices.

When he looks up, he's greeted with the sight of two guards, one slightly taller than the other, the other slightly broader, appraising him silently from the safety of the path. None of them speak at first, San's entire body going stiff as he realizes he's been caught wandering where he most likely shouldn't be. Choking on an apology, he rises to his feet in an attempt to be more presentable, but his limbs are half frozen and he stumbles instead, right into the waiting arms of the taller of the two guards.

"You know where you are, right?" The broader of the two hums as he leans against his spear, his silvery wings sparkling in the moonlight as they stretch out behind him before settling against his back more. "This is the king's private gardens. You shouldn't be up here."

Oh. Oh no.

San's features pale as he pulls away from the guard's hold, eyes going wide before he shakes his head and steps back. "I-I didn't know. I was just... wandering. I saw a staircase. I shouldn't have gone up. I honestly had no idea--"

"Mm, what's the penalty for trespassing on the king's private garden?" This question is directed to the taller guard, whose silver gaze hasn't left San yet. In their full garb, their eyes are the only features San can actually see, and it makes it much more terrifying, much more unknown. He has no idea who's caught him... or how much trouble he's going to be in.

The taller guard tilts his head a little, arms crossing over his chest as he watches San carefully. "A night in the cells. Or, if anything has been trodden on or stolen, a week on the ice with no shelter."

A week on the ice with no shelter. Even for a Moon fae, whose entire body was born to survive in the harsh, frozen North, a week with no shelter in the middle of the ice flats - known for their fierce, freezing winds - could be lethal. Swallowing sharply, San nearly chokes on his panic as he shrinks down a little.

"I s-swear. I had no idea. I'm... part of the entourage Prince Wooyoung brought with him from Heliotrope," San's voice has gone all high at the edges, a tell tale sign of his encroaching panic as he looks from guard to guard. "I promise I didn't step on any of them. I just-- there's an entire world up here. How could I not be drawn into it?"

His hands have started shaking now, fingers clinging to the edges of his cloak as he waits and hopes they might give him some lenience, hopes that dropping Wooyoung's name like that might give him some sort of security. He really doesn't want to spend a night in the cells... or a week in the ice flats.

The two guards share a look, one that lingers for far too long before they both turn back to San. This time, their gazes are gentle, almost playful, but something about this entire situation still makes San shiver. Though that might also be the cold...

"...would be a shame for the Prince's pretty daffodil to be left out here in the cold, wouldn't it, Youngjo?" The broader guard chuckles softly as his stance relaxes. "As hardy as those beautiful little flowers are, I doubt he could survive for very long on his own."

The taller snorts, the sound muffled by his helmet, and gently shoves the broader male away from him. "You're an incorrigible flirt, you know. Any intelligent person would see your stupid trick has scared the poor boy. Look at him, he's shaking, Geonhak."

...wait.

"G-Geonhak? Youngjo?"

The very first night they'd arrived in Hellebore, their group had been met by the head of the Royal guard, Kim Youngjo, and the Captain of the Wall patrol, Kim Geonhak. Despite their positions as security leaders for Hellebore, they had both been surprisingly warm and open to Wooyoung's group... and surprisingly warm and open to San as well. In the weeks that followed their arrival, the two guards had gone out of their way to invite San on trips to the Wall, on tours through the castle grounds and interior. They'd shown him the library on the fourth floor, walls lined with beautiful, ancient texts. They'd introduced him properly to the Oracle, Hwanwoong, a fae not much smaller than Hongjoong who had a vibrant smile and a surprising affection towards Mingi.

Over the last month, Youngjo and Geonhak had flirted with San, charming in their gentle smiles and even gentler natures, and despite himself - despite never being in a relationship, despite never desiring a relationship - San had found himself wondering what might happen if he opened himself up to the possibility of something with either of them.

But he'd never gone past wondering.

Blinking slowly, San shrinks back a little more as the taller - who he now realizes is definitely Youngjo - pulls his helmet off to reveal dark hair and a soft, albeit apologetic, smile before Geonhak follows suit. Staring at them both, San can't help but feel a number of emotions. Relief, because this means he's not about to be thrown in the dungeons or cast out into the cold. Shame at having been discovered in the King's private gardens by the two individuals he was maybe starting to develop feelings for. Embarrassment at his own behavior... and upset, a deep, gnawing hurt at the expense of their joke.

"...why would you do that?" His mind doesn't know which emotion to settle on so it defaults to hurt, tears already beginning to prickle at his eyes. "I was terrified I was about to be thrown in the dungeons. I had no idea who either of you were... I haven't even met any of the guards, beyond who I was introduced to... I can't believe you did this. Was it funny? Did you see me and think 'oh yeah, let's terrify the poor Sun fae and make him think he's about to be locked up'?!"

There are actual tears streaming down his cheeks now. He sniffles, hands lifting to rub at his face as Geonhak and Youngjo exchange sufficiently guilty glances. The next thing he knows, there's a warm cloth gently brushing across his cheeks, equally warm hands gently coaxing his own away from his face. He cries quietly, even as Youngjo wipes away his tears, even as Geonhak draws him closer into the encompassing warmth of their bodies. Vaguely, San is aware of the apologies they whisper into his hair, of the way they both hold him as if he's a precious commodity. It's surprising and unknown and terrifying... but the warmth is surprisingly comfortable. Slowly, his gentle sobs turn into nearly silent sniffles, body leaning into Youngjo's warmth as Geonhak's fingers idly card through his hair.

"It was poor taste," Youngjo says eventually, voice nearly a whisper as San sinks against him a little more. "The gardens are open to everyone... though very few actually come up here. You were never going to get in trouble for finding your way up here, daffodil."

San doesn't respond, surprisingly at peace with how they're holding him so delicately. Geonhak smiles, brushing another flake of snow from the back of San's head. "Yeah, that's my fault. I don't spend much time around other people. Youngjo is constantly telling me I need to learn how to actually talk to others."

"...maybe... don't joke about throwing someone in the dungeons... or exiling them to the ice flats..."

It takes effort to pull away from Youngjo, the warmth of the elder's body almost immediately seeping from San's limbs as he straightens and offers them both a lopsided smile. Now that his initial panic has worn off, part of him can see the joke they were trying to make. It was definitely in poor taste... but at the same time, he and Wooyoung had attempted similar jokes in the past. But with that waning panic comes something else, confusion. He looks from Geonhak to Youngjo slowly, eyeing both males carefully as they watch him with appropriately sheepish smiles on their stupidly attractive faces.

"We were--"

"Geonhak was the one who suggested bringing you up here one night," Youngjo cuts Geonhak off before the other male can continue his sentence, drawing San's gaze back to the taller as he nods his head to the garden around them. "When I said few come up here, I meant it. Yunho doesn't come up here much anymore, not since his mother passed... so it's been Geonhak and I tending to the flowers. It was... his idea to plant the daffodils, that's why they're still so young. Our magic doesn't work as well as yours for nurturing flowers, but we've done what we could to coax them into developing faster."

Geonhak's decision? Wide eyed, San turns his head towards Geonhak just in time to see the flustered flush bring color to the older male's cheeks. "...why?"

A tiny blossom of something hopeful begins to bloom within San. At the same time, daffodils begin to dot the edges of his collarbones, giving away his nervous, shy hope. Geonhak appraises him silently, the seconds slowly blending together as Youngjo gently nudges him.

"We... ah... I..." Geonhak stumbles over his words, cheeks still a pretty pink as he chews on his lower lip. "I thought you'd... understand. We've never met anyone like you, San. You're so vibrant. So full of warmth and light... Your smile is ridiculously beautiful and your laugh...I can't even describe it."

"You said it was like a symphony of bells, if I recall. Although you also said it was like a shrill dolphin when you were hungover on plum wine..."

San's nose wrinkles slightly before he laughs at the way Geonhak whirls around and makes a face at Youngjo. "You've clearly been ignoring Wooyoungie's laugh."

"...anyway, San. We like you," Youngjo's honest, clear cut confession pulls San's attention back to the Royal Captain. "The daffodils were meant to be a surprise... our way of adding a little touch of you into our lives. Although, we... want more than just a 'little touch'."

"But-- Aren't you two... together?" San's definitely confused. Flustered and surprised and caught off guard, yes... but also confused. He's never received a confession from anyone before. Let alone from two people at the same time. Let alone from two people already in an established relationship with each other.

Of course, San knows all too well that relationships don't mean simply two people. He's heard plenty of stories from Hongjoong regarding one of the twin princes of Nymphaea and his interesting relationship with his advisor and the crown prince of Callianthus. Their relationship works, regardless of the distance. And San's not royalty, not in any way. He's merely the ignored son of a Lord, and will one day inherit his father's title. But that doesn't mean the prospect of it terrifies him. He doesn't know how to be in a relationship with one person, let alone two. It doesn't matter how much he might enjoy being in their company, how much he might look forward to their nights wandering the castle and their days exploring the grounds... or how much he actually likes the both of them. And that's what it comes down to, isn't it? San likes them. Both of them. Now that he's been faced with it, he's more than well aware of how much he adores Youngjo's gentle smile, the way he treats everyone with the utmost respect and kindness. Just as he's plenty aware of just how much he loves Geonhak's laugh, his quiet sort of gentleness despite his obvious strength, and the way he's tried so hard to make San feel comfortable.

He likes them both. Might even be well on his way to loving them both... but that terrifies him.

Youngjo's the one to break him from his panicked thoughts, one of the elder's hands gently settling over his and squeezing gently. "We are. But we both want you, San. We had no idea we were even missing something until you walked into our lives. But then there you were. Beautiful, vibrant... and lonely. Geonhak thought planting the daffodils... bringing you up here... would help show you that we are sincere...that we mean what we say."

"I-- I don't... know how to be in a relationship though," San whispers, brows furrowing as he stares down at Youngjo's hands. "The others avoid me because I'm different."

"You are different, Sannie," Geonhak's deep voice wraps around San like a warm blanket, just as one of his hands rise to gently rest against San's waist. "But there's nothing wrong with being different. They don't see just how special you are. A child of the Sun and Moon. Able to thrive in both the fierce heat and the bitter cold. You are the best of both our kingdoms."

"I'm a daffodil, Geonhak. Daffodils are weeds!"

"To some, yes. But you are not a weed, San. Daffodils symbolize new beginnings and rebirth. You have so much potential and they're scared of that. But look at you... most Sun fae would have fled for the warm safety of their beds by now. The snow has barely even affected you. You're a daffodil, yes... but you are our daffodil, if you would let us show you just how much we care about you."

Youngjo's words hit somewhere deep, somewhere that hurts in just the right way and has the tears from earlier resurfacing. San makes a quiet noise, somewhere between a sob and a sound of relief, before he's being scooped up into Geonhak's warm, strong arms. Another arm wraps around his shoulders as Youngjo steps closer, the elder's nose brushing against the curve of San's left ear as he presses his face into the crook of Geonhak's neck. He wants this. He does. He wants to belong. Wants to know what it feels like to be loved.

"I'm sorry I ruined the surprise..."

The words are muffled against Geonhak's neck, but somehow both males understand San's sheepish, whispered words. They laugh, softly, before Youngjo kisses San's temple affectionately.

"It's okay, little daffodil.There are always more surprises to come. We'll discover them together."

Together. San smiles as he sinks into the warmth, one hand slowly searching for one of Youngjo's even as Geonhak holds him tighter. He likes the sound of that.

-x-

_ Four months later… _

“I told you they would overrun the gardens! Why are you laughing?! This is a serious issue!”

It’s a surprisingly warm day in Hellebore, despite the thin layer of snow covering the ground and the delicate flakes dancing through the air. Coaxed outside by the promise of sunshine and warmth, San had, as always, found his way to the gardens. From that first night, the sweet smelling blooms and vibrant colors had meant so much more than the fields of flowers in the South. What had been just out of reach now fills him with gentle delight, the comforting confirmation that despite the way he’d been treated for all of his youth by his peers, he could still be loved and love in return. Youngjo and Geonhak had been patient and gentle in their advances, never pushing too far, giving San all the time in the world to return their affections and attention.

Geonhak peers over a blossoming patch of wintersweet, petals of the same flower falling from tiny blooms sweeping across his cheekbones, to watch the way San tries to reason with the spreading patch of daffodils. The sight of the fae on his knees, earnestly pleading with the obstinate golden flowers, brings a smile to the guard’s face. Despite all his initial worries, San looked like he’d lived here his entire life, gossamer wings shimmering in the sunlight and snowflakes settling on the daffodils dotting his dark hair. Youngjo continues laughing softly, gently tending to the winter Jasmine as San looks up at him with a scowl.

“Hyung, this is serious. Daffodils are ridiculously stubborn. They’ll just keep growing until the entire garden is overrun with them.”

“...You’re one to talk about being stubborn, daffodil,” Geonhak eases his way around the wintersweet, nudging his way into the patch of daffodils next to San so he can tug the younger into his arms with a soft hum. “How many times have we told you to wear your scarf when you come out here? You might be able to withstand more cold than the average Sun Fae, but you’re freezing. Look, your hands are shaking.”

From his perch amidst the clematis, Youngjo watches the way San sinks back into Geonhak’s arms like he’d always been there, a pleased smile tugging at his lips. Their beautiful daffodil had come so far in the past few months. He’d grown into himself so much. His confidence had bloomed and for the most part, Youngjo and Geonhak had been able to rid him of the worst of his insecure thoughts, replacing them with warm embraces and gentle words. They weren’t perfect… but they were getting close to being wonderfully acceptable.

San twists slightly in Geonhak’s hold, the young fae scrunching his nose up before he grins. “Why wear a scarf when I have you two to keep me warm?”

“Good lord, Geonhak. You’re turning him into an incorrigible flirt,” Youngjo laughs as he carefully extracts himself from the clematis, gingerly stepping his way through the garden towards his boys. “He’s right though, San. You’re still adjusting to the different climates. Your wings could be damaged by prolonged exposure to the cold before you’ve fully built up their strength.”

As he speaks, he settles a hand on San’s shoulder before gingerly sliding his fingers through the younger’s dark hair. His gaze settles briefly on the streak of white in his fringe, a physical mark of his dual nature. Others might not be fond of the reminder, but Youngjo adores the wild look it gives their beautiful daffodil. Stepping closer, coaxed into the warm embrace by the shy hand that settles on his hip before smoothing over the small of his back, Youngjo hums a delighted sound as San turns towards him.

“…we have to make sure the daffodils don’t overtake the entire garden,” San mumbles, cheeks pink - not just from the cold, but from the way both Geonhak and Youngjo smile at him - and lips pouted. “What if Yunho wants to bring Wooyoungie up here some time? All of the beautiful flowers… completely swarmed by daffodils.”

“Oh San… Nothing would be more beautiful than fields of warm, buttery yellow. If we could somehow manage it, Geonhak and I would cover the ice flats with daffodils, just to show you how beautiful they can be. How beautiful you are. The garden is hardy and strong. The daffodils can only add to their strength, their beauty. Not a swarm, but a gentle embrace…”

As Youngjo speaks, he guides San’s attention to the entwined clematis and wintersweet - his and Geonhak’s birth flowers - and the shy, almost timid lone daffodil creeping up to join their embrace. It was awfully cliche in a way, seeing each of their respective birth flowers come together in a such a way. But the sight of it still has San smiling, vibrant and at ease and amused, before he’s twisting in Youngjo’s hold. Before the Royal guard can say anything, a gentle kiss is pressed to the corner of his mouth, San’s body shaking ever so slightly in his hold. When San pulls away, his cheeks are even more flushed, eyes darting away as Youngjo peers down at him in surprise.

“You’re beautiful, San. Exactly as you are. Our sweet daffodil,” Youngjo whispers as he leans down to chase San’s lips with his own. He kisses him softly, gently, fingers gently pressing against his hip to hold him close. San kisses him back just as softly, just as gently, trembling hands curling in the front of his tunic, trembling body held carefully between the two Moon fae.

“And we’re so lucky to have you in our lives,” Geonhak’s voice is just as soft as Youngjo pulls back first. A smile dances across the Royal guard’s features as San blinks up at him with wide eyes before turning towards Geonhak.

The Captain gives them both an accusatory look before pouting. “Where’s my kiss?”

San laughs, as a flurry of snowflakes dance around them on the breeze, settling on upturned flowers like gentle frosty kisses.

He might be a daffodil… but he’s not a weed. He’s not invasive. And he’s not alone.

He just needed to find the garden he belonged in.

Surrounded by clematis and wintersweet, San had found his home.

  
  
  
  



End file.
